


Somebody Like Me

by FreyReh



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9803081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyReh/pseuds/FreyReh
Summary: Laurel struggles to find her place on the Waverider... And develops feelings for an certain felon.





	

She stood in-front of the mirror, her green eyes duller than she remembered them being, while taking in her appearance. She trailed her fingers through her blonde hair, taking note of the roots coming in, them much darker than the blonde locks that seemed limp to her instead of bouncy. She’d lost weight since coming here. Her definition in her arms wasn’t up to par. She needed to start working out again. She knew her cardio needed work as well. According to Gideon, she could find a proper workout room on the level below. She frowned while lifting the hem of her simple, white t-shirt. Her eyes zeroed in on a scar and her free hand came up so that she could trail her fingertips over the raised skin. She shivered, thinking that the wound that’d been there had killed her in another timeline. That right now, she should be six feet under and in the ground… Not traveling through time with her sister to fight those that’d had a hand in killing both of them. 

Everyone had been supportive of her return and her insertion into the team. Not that they’d had a choice. She needed to be added back into the timeline at the appropriate place, and apparently that place hadn’t been found yet. Everyone she cared about in Star City, including her father, thought she was dead. A thought that surpassed depressing.

 Sara was always asking her if she was okay. Ray hovered like a mother-hen and though at first she’d been okay with it. Sometimes all she wanted was some space. Stein was looking at her like some sort of science project at times. Nate, Amaya, and Jax were who she spent most of her time with. They didn’t always ask her questions. Nate let her sit in the library quietly while he was researching. Jax asked for her help once on repairs and she’d watched, holding a flashlight for him, as he did what had needed to be done without so much as a word save for moving the light around. She’d walked in on Amaya once meditating. She’d been ready to leave but Amaya had offered her a spot beside her to try and clear her head.

It hadn’t helped. Not really.

Then there was Mick. Mick who hadn’t said much of anything to her. Who she barely saw. Who went out on missions then locked himself in his room with a six-pack and sandwich. The criminal who lost his partner but decided to stick with the heroes instead of heading back to Central City to pick up where he’d left off. The man who, at times, was the topic of mean jokes and nasty remarks who just shook his head and pretended he didn’t know what all the harsh words meant. There’d been a time that Ray had said something, and Laurel had smacked him on the arm, making the scientist complain about abuse while rubbing the sore area. She’d sworn she’d seen a half-smile on Mick’s face before he’d turned away toward the galley. The man was a criminal. He’d killed his family, albeit accidentally, and others, too. She’d looked everyone on the team up one night. Curious. Gideon hadn’t left much out on them. The things Mick had done in his past had Laurel telling herself over and over again that he didn’t deserve her sympathy or empathy. 

But…

 _But_.

“You’re a mess,” she said to herself, stepping away from the mirror, letting both her hands come up to run through her hair. The next mission that happened, she didn’t care what the others said, she needed to get off this ship. She needed blue sky and fresh air. She looked around the room Sara had said belonged to Leonard Snart. The man currently working with the Legion of Doom. A younger version of himself who didn’t know the faces of his future teammates. Who’d called Mick a traitor when Mick had protected Sara instead of taking his offer to work with the bad guys—

And there she went again. Thinking about Mick Rory. 

In that moment, Laurel slipped on a pair of shoes, and headed down to the level where the gym was. It was dark and quiet. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail with the band she’d been wearing on her wrist then stepped up onto the treadmill, fingers pressing settings until she was at a steady jog. 

Baby steps. 

She’d make her way to the punching bag. To the weights… Maybe not the salmon ladder. She was starting to grow tired after ten minutes. She pushed it to fifteen, then slowed to a walk to cooldown for five more minutes. When she stepped off she felt tired. Which was a good thing. She’d been having problems sleeping. So she went to the bathroom assigned to the women and hopped in the shower. She recognized the brand of shampoo Sara used and helped herself. She washed her hair, scrubbed her face, and then stepped out and wrapped herself in a towel. There was no one else around and so she walked back to her room, wrapped in the towel, and when she entered she jumped when seeing Mick Rory sitting on the floor, beer in hand. 

“Mick?”

He looked up at her, confused, then frowned. “Oh. _Right_. Forgot someone was using this room.” He stood, slightly shaky on his feet. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, watching him head for the door. “Are.. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said, waving her off. “Goodnight, Pretty Bird.”

“Pretty Bird?” she asked, eyebrow lifted. 

“Well. Yer pretty,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Can’t just call you Pretty, cause that’s Star-Spangled Doofus. You were the Black Canary. So. Pretty Bird.”

“Right,” said Laurel, fighting a smile. “Goodnight, Mick.”

He left and she shook her head, informing Gideon to keep the door locked before dropping her towel. She dressed in fresh clothes, dropping her used ones in the laundry shoot that apparently incinerated clothes because no one here wanted to do laundry, hence the replicator room. Laurel had made a few pairs of yoga pants and slipped one pair on now, followed by a simple tank. When she looked in the mirror to brush her hair she paused. She tilted her head to the side and that smile she’d been fighting broke through. 

“Pretty Bird,” she said softly.

.

.

.

“Let’s go somewhere.”

Mick paused, drinking his third beer already, before looking at Laurel. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You. Me. Let’s go,” she said, jacking a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve been cooped up on this ship for weeks. Sara wouldn’t let me go on this mission. You’re benched for whatever reason. So let’s go.”

“Where do you want to go?” asked Mick. “Not a lot of places to go in the desert.”

“You want to stay? Fine? I’ll go by myself.”

She was gone. Mick was ready to just let her go. Then he remembered why he’d been benched. Snart was out there. He’d lost his cool when it came to the talk of taking Snart down. Sara wanted to capture him. Mick just wanted to fry his ass and drop him back into 2013. Pretty and Haircut wanted to keep him around for questioning and Mick? Mick just wanted him gone. Because THAT Snart was reawakening the man he used to be. Someone just as bad as Chronos. And for some reason… He wanted that man to stay away.

Snart and the other Legion Losers were out there somewhere. He didn’t want Laurel out there with no backup. He liked her. So he downed the last of his beer then got up, the alcohol warming his blood as much as the jog until he was at her side.

“Decided to come?”

“Why not? Nothing worth doing here anyway. Gideon!”

“Yes, Mr. Rory?”

“The kid finish the repairs on the second jumpship?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

.

.

.

Laurel inhaled deeply, humming at the feel of the dry desert heat. The sun was setting, casting the sky in purples, oranges, and pinks. When the night came, it would be cooler, but she could already see the prickling of the stars. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of the heatgun being used. 

“Damn snakes,” muttered Mick. 

“Well don’t kill it,” said Laurel. 

“I didn’t. Just scared it a little.”

“Mmm…” She turned her head back to the sunset, eyes closing as she greedily took in the last of its warmth. “Thank you for doing this. It beats walking all the way here.”

“If you walked you wouldn’t have gotten up on these rocks,” said Mick. 

“That is true. Either way. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, pulling a flask from his jacket pocket. “Seriously. Don’t.”

“Okay,” said Laurel, waving her hand in the negative when he offered his flask. “I don’t drink.”

“That’s too bad,” he said before shrugging. “More for me.”

“I had a problem with it,” said Laurel, crossing her arms over her chest. She was starting to get cold. She’d dressed for the warm desert, not the cooler one that came out at night. “So I quit.”

“Hm,” he hummed, taking another drink before capping it. 

“I need you to drive us back, so…”

“Gideon does most of the work,” he said. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll wait till we get back to get shit-faced.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly, running her hands up and down her arms. 

“You cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” said Mick. Of course he wouldn’t just offer her his coat, like a gentleman. He’d wait for her to ask. Laurel, being as stubborn as she was, wouldn’t ask now since she’d just said she was fine. Despite the shiver that had Mick chuckling. “Yer stubborn like your sister.”

“A Lance family trait that leaves many sighing in exasperation.”

“Right,” said Mick.

“Suppose we should get back,” said Laurel, looking up at the stars one last time. 

Laurel headed back to the ship, Mick right behind her. She settled into the seat and didn’t say a word as Mick asked Gideon to turn the heat on behind take-off. They made it back and docked before the rest of them arrived. Mick and Laurel were both grabbing dinner when the team announced their next stop. 

Athens.

“Cool,” said Mick. “Does that mean we get to watch the fights.”

“Of course you’d ask that,” said Sara with a laugh, grabbing her own dinner. “And yeah. Probably. If there’s time.”

“Sweet,” said Nate and Ray at the same time.

Mick and Sara shared a look. Both of them knew full well both men wouldn’t be able to handle it, but they stayed quiet about it. Sara then settled next to Laurel, drinking some water before speaking. 

“So what did you do, today?”

“Nothing much, really. Worked out. Read a book.”

“I know it sucks being stuck in here. But… Maybe, soon, we can get you cleared for missions,” said Sara. “At least ones no where near our timeline.”

“Yeah?” asked Laurel. 

“Yeah.”

.

.

.

“Just go with it,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again. She felt his hands at her hips, clenching there as she let her hands trail up his chest then rest at his bare shoulders. He’d wanted to sit this one out. Laurel had a feeling it had to do with the scars. The same scars she had absolutely no problem running her hands over. During this time of togas and chitons, a lot more skin was shown than expected. The team had come here to make sure Caesar’s assassination happened as planned.  The guards ran past them, neither bothering to interrupt the couple, and Laurel was the one to break the kiss when they were in the clear. She felt heat at her cheeks and the warmth of his hands was seeping into the skin of her hips. Her eyes met his and she saw a question there, but he never asked it, instead just slowly releasing her before starting in the direction of the jumpship. She followed, aware of the surroundings. The team all finally met up and Jax sat himself in the pilot seat. 

“I can’t believe we just killed Julius Caesar,” whispered Nate. 

“To be fair,” said Sara. “It was Rip who delivered that final blow.” Sara smirked. “On accident when he wanted to keep the man alive, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

“Man, this sucks, fighting against two guys that used to be on OUR side,” said Jax as they lifted off. 

“Yeah,” said Sara, her voice holding a tingle of sadness that has Laurel looking at her. _Really_ looking at her. “It does.”

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said Laurel, two days later. “Is it because of the kiss?” Mick paused, shoulders tense, before resuming the making of his sandwich. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Mick laughed. “You’re apologizing to _me_?”

“Well… Yeah.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Pretty Bird.”

“Are we good?” she asked, coming to lean by him at the counter. 

“We’ve always been good.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” she asked. 

Mick sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Mick,” said Laurel, reaching out, fingers at his elbow. He wretched the elbow away, and she felt a new kind of hurt which was replaced with a sense of awareness as he suddenly turned on her. He was in her space, more than she was used to, and her breath caught as she saw how intense his eyes were.

“I’m avoiding you because I want to do it again,” he said, eyes slowly moving down to her lips. She found herself licking her lips now, and his eyes went from chocolate brown to an almost black before he grabbed his sandwich and headed toward the door without a word. Laurel had her hands braced on the counter, almost panting, before she straightened then followed after him. She knew where he’d be and so she went to his door. Only, it wouldn’t open. 

“Gideon? Open the door.”

“Mr. Rory has insisted that no one is to enter his room.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I do not kid.”

“Ugh! He wants to be that way… Fine.”

.

.

.

“You want me to do what?” asked Sara. 

“Get that door open,” said Laurel. “I mean, you’re Captain, can’t you override his command?”

“I could.” Sara perked up a little. “What’s up with you two, anyway?”

“Nothing.”  
  
“Sure doesn’t seem like nothing,” said Sara. “You like him or something?” When Laurel didn’t immediately say no, Sara laughed. “Seriously?”

“You don’t get to laugh,” said Laurel. “Think I don’t know about you and Leonard? People talk, Sara.”

Sara sighed. “What Leonard and I had was over before it started.”

“But you still care about him. I can tell.”

Sara shrugged a shoulder. “Never thought I’d see a day my sister, ADA Laurel Lance, fell for a felon.”

“Can you just open the damn door?”

“Of course…”

.

.

.

She marched into his room and he jumped up from his chair in surprise. He was about to say something but she instead chose to place her hand on his chest and push him back down on the lounger. He cursed, nearly dropping the beer he’d been holding, eyes widening as the recliner threatened to fall over from the force of her push and his weight hitting it. When he just managed to balance out his flailing limbs she was on him, straddling his lap and gripping the front of his jacket before slanting her mouth over his. He had no choice but to drop his beer, the sound of the glass shattering on the floor ignored as both his hands went on her body. He groaned at the feel of her pressed against him, brought a gloved hand up to her hair, suddenly wanting to feel her hair against his skin: while his other hand settled over her ass. The kiss was hot, one of the hottest ones they’d had in a while, and by the end of it both were panting and both were aware of how close they were to each other. 

“You taste like mustard,” she whispered, making him chuckle. 

“Didn’t give me time to pop a mint.”

“Hm…” She kissed him again, this one softer, but ending with a playful tug of his bottom lip with her teeth. A move that had him shifting slightly, now more than aware of how her hips pressed against his. “I’ll try and give you a warning next time.”

“Next time?” he asked. There was something in his tone that had her pulling back slightly and looking at him. She saw a plethora of emotions on his face ranging from desire to disbelief. “Pretty Bi—Laurel. A guy like me? You could do better.”

She brought her hand up to the side of his face, the stubble scratching her palm deliciously, and his eyes drooped slightly with the contact. “Isn’t it up to me who I want to be with?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“God, Mick, you make me feel… Alive. When you took me out in that desert it was the first time I felt like I could… Be free. Alive. I’ve felt dead ever since coming onto this ship and you? You make me… I don’t know… _Feel_.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice sounding open and vulnerable. Something she’d never heard from him before. 

“How about, for now, another kiss?” she asked, leaning closer against, aware of him tugging off his gloves behind her back. “Then we can go from there.”

“Works for me.”

.

.

.

"You okay?" asked Amaya, settling next to Sara, who looked worried. Sara was biting her thumbnail while looking down the hall that led to the private quarters just outside the library. 

"I'm not sure." Sara sighed as Amaya gave her a questioning look. "I think my sister likes Mick."

"Oh." Amaya smiled. "Well good for the both of them."

"It's my sister. And Mick." Sara groaned. "What did I just do?"

"Your sister is an adult. She can make her own choices. Besides... He isn't that bad of a guy."

Sara wanted to argue. Then she remembered how he'd caught her when Rip shot her. Tried to protect her before being hauled off. Thought about how far he'd come from the man she'd first met when the mission started.

"He breaks her heart I'm breaking his face."

"And I'm sure he knows that," said Amaya, taking in Sara's still agitated state. "Wish to spar?"

"Please!"

"Perhaps then you can tell me the story between you and Leonard Snart."

Sara was about to argue. About to say that there was no story. Instead, she just nodded. 

"Okay."

**END**


End file.
